Claiming Cure (Dauntless Cyborgs #3)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

“I prefer to see patients to treat them.” Cyra studied the Cancri female seated in the chamber.

“The Invaders have my mate laboring in their cursed mines from sunrise to sunset, Healer Cyra.” Maylla twisted her hands in her lap. “When he returns to our domicile, he eats nourishment and then falls asleep.” She looked around them. There was no one else in the chamber and the door was closed. “He wakes during the rest cycle and I can hear him crying. The pain is that bad.”

If the tumor was the size the female described it to be, the agony the male was enduring would be excruciating.

Cyra cursed the Humanoid Alliance. They were unfeeling fiends.

And she made an exception for the absentee patient and his devoted mate.

She selected two containers from a nearby horizontal support. “Tell your mate to take one pill from each container every sunrise.” Cyra pressed the containers into Maylla’s hands. “It will decrease his pain.”

For a little while.

She didn’t say that.

“And it will slow the tumors’ growth.” Cyra paused. “Fates willing.”

She questioned that the Fates existed. It was unlikely that there were three deities who guided beings through life.

But she respected the Cancris’ faith.

And she had seen enough unusual things in the universe not to discredit it completely.

Fates knew, the beings on Cancri B needed any help they could get.

“Fates willing.” Maylla smiled. “They brought you to Cancri B, Healer Cyra.” She placed the containers carefully in her pack. “And when my mate showed me the growth on his back and told me of the hurt he was experiencing, the Fates then led me to you.” As she stood, she hugged her pack close to her chest. “My mate’s well-being and mine are in their hands, and now, they are also in yours.”

“I’ll try not to fail the two of you.” Cyra pushed back her dread.

The male’s tumors could be smaller than Maylla had described. And Cyra could devise a cure for him before she died.

She had enough planet rotations remaining before her assignment to possibly do that.

“Thank you, Healer Cyra.” Maylla slipped out the doors.

Cyra cleaned the chamber, readying it for the next patient.

Who hopefully would be present at their appointment.

She checked her messages.

Cure hadn’t left her a communication telling her he had decided not to visit her.

Their meeting was still on. She touched her head covering. It was her favorite one. It had been crafted by Kritalin from one of Cyra’s special-occasion flight suits. A shined-to-a-gleaming-finish stone and three dyed-to-match feathers had been added.

She planned to wear the simulated hair the Rebel Female had given her under the head covering. Sure, her relationship with Cure was purely professional. But she wanted to look as good as possible for their first face-to-face meeting.

Before that happened, she had more patients to see.

Cyra exited the chamber.

Some of those patients and their loved ones were waiting in the hallways. They looked up and greeted her as she passed them.

No one stopped her. And no one asked her for a medical opinion.

They know she preferred not to give advice or treat patients outside of the private chambers. And they respected that preference.

Zorelle wasn’t seated at the front of the medic bay. It was planet rotation ten, which meant her friend was in charge of nourishment and beverage distribution outside the structure.

Plimpkin, one of the volunteers, was stationed in her place. “Chamber 2 is next.” She told Cyra where the next patient was situated.

“Thank you.” Cyra required that help. She’d been working without ceasing for well over a shift, and all the appointments seemed to flow together.

As she walked toward the chamber, she accessed that patient’s file. Her lips curled upward when she saw the name and details.

She entered the small space. “You came here for Zorelle’s nourishment patties, didn’t you?” She teased the Cancri boy.

“She gave me one on the way in.” Uuppie showed her the flattened nourishment patty he’d stored in his top right chest pocket. “I’m saving it for later.”

Cyra suspected the boy was saving it to share with his mom. Not that he’d ever admit to that softhearted deed. “You don’t need to see me to get patties.”

“Mom said I had to see you.” Uuppie rolled his eyes. “’Cause of this.” He pulled up the right leg of his garment. A long, thin, black burn mark marred his orange skin. “I don’t know what you need to do with it. It doesn’t hurt.”

It wouldn’t hurt. The pain suppressors the boy was taking for his tumors would numb the wound.

“I can heal it faster than if it went untreated.” She could also uncover how bad the wound was. “It looks like another burn from an Invader stick.”

Cyra scanned Uuppie’s leg. The burn was deep, but no bones had been broken.

This time.

“You have to stay away from them, Uuppie.” She grabbed a container of salve from a side horizontal support. “They could hurt you worse than this.”

The Humanoid Alliance fiends had tortured and killed children. Those tiny twisted torn bodies had been found in pits.

There was nothing she could do to help them then.

“ They should stay away from me .” Uuppie scowled. “This is our planet, not theirs.”

Cyra shared that opinion, and she understood the boy’s anger. But she couldn’t encourage his high-risk actions. “Avoid them, Uuppie.” She pulled on hand coverings and warmed the salve between her palms. “If you see them, run the other way.”

She carefully applied the treatment to the wound.

Uuppie twitched. “I tried to avoid them.” He glared at her. “But they were waiting at the offerings.” His voice lowered. “They sat on them. I hope the Fates smite them for doing that.”

“Do the Fates smite bad beings?” Cyra wasn’t aware that was one of the deities’ powers.

“If the Fates don’t smite them, I will.” Uuppie’s face was as dark as a defective internal image. “I thought about doing that when I saw them, but instead, I ran, like you and my mom say to do, but the big one caught me with his stick.” He made a whacking sound. “It didn’t take me down though. I kept running.”

Children shouldn’t have to run from beings.

And Uuppie, for all his tough talk, was a child. He had a mere eight solar cycles.

When Cyra first arrived on Cancri B, violence between fully mature beings was rare. Hurting a child was unheard of.

Then the Humanoid Alliance invaded. Those human males seemed to delight in hurting and killing the locals.

The Cancris were frightened to leave their domiciles after sunset. They traveled with others. Some of them carried daggers.

Those precautions didn’t stop children from being beaten.

“Your fast running saved you this time.” She covered the salve with gauze. “You might not be as lucky next time.”

Uuppie glowered at her again.

“You can take the gauze off in a planet rotation.” She rolled the boy’s garment leg down. “Try not to get it dirty.”

“Dirt happens.” Uuppie stuck out his chin.

“ Try to keep it clean.” She wouldn’t ask the impossible from him. “You can go home now.” His wound should heal. “Grab a few more nourishment patties for you and your mom as you leave.”

“I can’t.” The boy didn’t move.

“You can’t grab a few more nourishment patties?” She lifted her eyebrows. That was a surprise. The boy had an appetite that could rival thirteen fully mature males.

“I can’t go home.” He blew out his breath. “Mom said I have to stay outside and spend time with my friends .” He imitated his mom’s voice.

Uuppie’s mom loved her son. But he was very active and very angry.

And the female likely no longer had the energy to deal with all of that.

She was ill like everyone else on the planet.

Cyra swallowed a sigh. She didn’t yet have a cure for that illness, but she could ensure the female’s son wasn’t roaming the settlement, looking for Invaders and all the trouble that came with locating them.

“Tidy your hands.” She lobbed a cleaning cloth at Uuppie.

The boy caught it. “They aren’t very dirty.” But he did what she told him to do.

Cyra removed her hand coverings, snapped the fabric to refresh it, and stuffed them into a pocket on her white medic coat. She resisted the urge to look at her handheld.

Cure hadn’t sent her a message. Her system would have announced that if he had.

“Done.” Uuppie held up his hands.

They were…cleaner. “Good.” Cyra took the scrunched-up cleaning cloth from him, snapped it to refresh that square also, placed it with the hand coverings. “Come with me.”

She extended one of her hands.

“I’m not holding your hand.” The boy jumped off the medic support. “Fighters don’t hold hands.”

“I see.” She saw she had to keep Uuppie occupied, or he’d end up dead. “Walk beside me, then.” She shortened her stride as she exited the chamber and moved along the hallways.

“Where are we going?” Uuppie patted the pocket with the nourishment patty as though reassuring himself it was still there.

“I’m putting you to work.” The heat blasted Cyra’s face as they left the medic bay.

A long line of Cancris edged the path in front of the structure. She couldn’t see the end of it.

Every being in that line—Fates, everyone on the planet—was ill and needed tending.

Uuppie was one of those beings. Cyra focused on him now.

They walked around the medic bay.

The line for nourishment wound back and forth due to the lack of space. Some of the beings waiting in it clutched empty packs. Others carried bare containers.

All were too thin. Every set of eyes held desperation and a hint of hope.

The Cancris greeted her with a respectful “Healer” and stepped aside, allowing her to pass them and approach the horizontal supports located at the front of the line.

“I have another helper.” Cyra moved Uuppie before her and clasped his bony, garment-covered, shoulders.

He tried to shrug her away from him.

She didn’t allow that to happen.

“Ah, yes, my favorite nourishment-patty eater.” Zorelle’s eyes twinkled. She looked at Midd, one of the female volunteers. “Are you okay to take over distribution for a few moments?”

“We’ll be okay.” Midd nodded.

“Thank you.” Zorelle walked toward Cyra and Uuppie. “A helper, huh?” Her gaze lowered to the boy. “My nourishment patties make beings strong. Are you strong?”

“Yeah.” The boy kicked a rock. Hard. It pinged off the side of the medic bay. “I’m strong.”

“Huh.” Zorelle studied him. “But are you strong enough?”

“I’m strong enough.” Uuppie flexed his almost non-existent biceps. Aggressively. His fingers curled into small fists. His movement was jerky.

“You do look capable.” Zorelle widened her eyes in feigned appreciation. “I need someone to hand Litph Cancri moon fruit. Can you do that?” She paused dramatically. “She’s posted at the liquefying station.”

“The liquefying station?” That got Uuppie’s full attention. “We’re destroying things?”

“I prefer to think of it as creating delicious nourishment beverages.” Zorelle’s tone was dry. “But yes, you’re destroying things.”

“I’m doing this.” The boy marched toward the liquefying station.

“Thank you.” Cyra maintained a smile on her face. Beings were watching them. “The sanctioned destruction might help him. He’s angry. And he’s wounded.”

“We all are.” Zorelle moved to stand beside her.

A companionable silence fell between them.

Cyra yearned to prolong it. But there were things they should talk about. She tilted her head at the long line of Cancris.

Zorelle looked in that direction.

“There are more beings this planet rotation.” Cyra lowered her voice. The need in the previously prosperous settlement clawed at her.

“There are more beings. Many more.” Zorelle sighed. “We had to add water to the liquified nourishment to stretch it. And we had to reserve the nourishment patties for the kids.”

Cyra suppressed her wince.

Her friend was proud of her nourishment fabrications. That she was changing the formulations meant they were running out of materials.

“How many more distributions will that give us?” It would pain her to stop them. The Cancris needed that nourishment.

Their rations had been destroyed by the Humanoid Alliance.

“It should take us to the next delivery of supplies.” Zorelle eased her fears. “Provided the number of beings seeking nourishment don’t increase. And the Invaders don’t confiscate those supplies.”

The Humanoid Alliance didn’t need the nourishment. They confiscated those supplies to terrorize and starve the Cancris.

“Fates willing, neither will happen.” It would have to be an act of the Fates. The number of beings needing assistance grew every distribution planet rotation. And the Humanoid Alliance was determined to make their lives miserable.

“Fates willing.” Zorelle nodded at a passing female. “I’m proud of you for taking a break.” Her friend had been reminding her to do that for solar cycles. “I know you want to heal everyone. But that’s not possible. You need to enjoy life also—the life we have left.”

Guilt jabbed at Cyra. She hadn’t taken a break voluntarily. “The distribution site is close to where I parked the land transport,” she confessed. “I’m meeting with the off-planet medic.”

“You agreed to meet with him?” Zorelle turned her head and gaped at her. “Is that wise? Unless he’s Cancri, his arrival will draw attention.”

Zorelle didn’t know how bad that attention from the Humanoid Alliance would be for Cyra. Especially at this critical moment. She hadn’t told her friend about the task the Rebel female had given her.

“His arrival will draw attention.” Cyra had to limit Cure’s appearances outside the medic bay. “And no, it’s not wise. But he didn’t give me a choice. He’s determined to visit Cancri B.”

“Hmmm…” Zorelle tilted her head. “Interesting.”

“No, it’s not interesting. At all.” Cyra maintained her serene expression while trying not to freak the Fates out.

Because Cure’s visit could get him, her, Zorelle, and countless others killed.

That was not the legacy she wanted to leave the universe.

“It’s merely that you said we needed another healer.” Zorelle reminded her of that much-less serious problem. “And here he is.”

They needed another healer because she’d soon be dead. But… “Cure is not that healer. He has the personality of a robot.”

She kind of dug his tendency to be honest and blunt and a bit too logic-driven. There was no guessing with Cure. He told her what he thought.

But her warm and loving Cancri patients would not appreciate that approach.

“Cure?” Zorelle laughed.

That caught beings’ attentions. The Cancris around them smiled.

“Your healer does not have a personality of a robot.” Her friend grinned. “Not if he uses Cure as his tag. Cure. For a healer.” She laughed again.

“It isn’t a joke.” It couldn’t be one. Cure was extremely serious. He had never given her any indication he had a sense of humor.

“It has to be a joke.” Zorelle waved one of her hands. “How many planet rotations will he be here?”

Fates. Cyra hadn’t asked for that information. “Hopefully, one.”

“No one comes to Cancri B for one planet rotation.” Zorelle dashed that hope. “It’s too far from any other settled planet for a short visit like that.”

Ugh. He’d be her guest for that lengthy visit. “I don’t have time to play hostess.” Especially as she had to figure out how to blow up an extremely large weapon and kill all the Humanoid Alliance leaders.

“He’s a healer.” Zorelle shrugged.

“What does that mean?” Cyra was confused.

“You’re admittedly the only healer I know, but if he’s anything like you, he’ll spend his entire time here in the medic bay.” Her friend’s tone was dry.

“I toured the planet when I first arrived.” Cyra was indignant.

“Really?” Zorelle lifted her eyebrows. “And what did you see on that tour?”

Cyra’s face heated. “Other medic bays,” she mumbled.

“Exactly.” Her friend rolled her eyes. “Your healer will do the same except he’ll see only one medic bay—ours.”

“He’s not my healer,” Cyra muttered.

“You’ll have a play friend.” Zorelle ignored her comment. “I’ll have two healers to look after, ensuring you both eat and drink and sleep.” She didn’t sound upset about that additional work. “I’ll ask one of the males to clean out another supply chamber for him to use.”

Cyra blinked. “He can’t be expecting to stay with me.” She paused. “Can?—”

“Healer.” A male bellowed. “Where’s the Healer?”

The crowd parted. Cancris pointed to Cyra.

A disheveled Cancri male rushed toward her. “Healer.” He was covered in orange dust…and blood. Streaks of crimson slashed his garments. “Collapse. Buried. Injured.” His chest heaved.

“I need my medic pack,” Cyra yelled.

One of the helpers ran to retrieve it.

“How many?” Cyra needed to know if the pack’s contents would be enough to treat everyone.

“All.” The male’s expression held a wildness only a horrific disaster could cause.

“Look at me.” She indicated her eyes. “How many beings were buried?”

“Eighty.” His voice was hoarse from, she suspected, the inhaled dust. “Ninety. Maybe more.” He swiped his hands over his face. “It’s sign-up planet rotation for the mines. The structure was full.” His lips flattened. “And the Invaders hadn’t showed up. They were late. When they arrived…”

“When they arrived, they destroyed the structure.” Zorelle said the words the male couldn’t utter. “The Invaders knew it would be full because they knew none of us would risk angering them. They couldn’t kill us fast enough in their cursed mines. They had to blow some of us up.”

“Zorelle, not here.” Cyra looked around them. They were outside, in the open. There were pathways near them, and shadows beings could hide in. The Humanoid Alliance could be listening to their chatter. “And not now.”

Saving the males was their priority.

“You’re right.” Her friend nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“Gather up as many supplies as possible.” Cyra would need more than the contents of her medic pack. “Pain suppressors, prolongers, and containers of oxygen are key. Send it to the site. Along with floating supports. We’ll need to bring the patients here as quickly as we can.”

That would increase their odds of survival.

“Your medic pack, Healer.” The helper held it out to her.

Cyra gripped it. “Thank you.” She looked up at the male. He was trembling from shock. But she had to ask him to do more. “Take me to the site.”

Her meeting with Cure would have to wait.

Saving lifespans was her priority.

Now.

And always.